


We all Fall Down

by TT_Angst_Queen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Memories, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14857241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT_Angst_Queen
Summary: "I still have Nightmares about it, ya' know? The Fall, the Train...""Buck..."





	We all Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flight_Of_Icarus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flight_Of_Icarus/gifts).



 

* * *

 

 

_ The air was colder then the old apartment he and Stevie had shared during cold Brooklyn winters before the War had turned the world upside down. Bucky’s breath fogged even in the inside of the train as he aimed his gun at the HYDRA goon trying to shoot his best friend in the back, and the sound of the shot was barely heard over the sound of the icy wind and the train rolling over the tracks at lord-knew what speed.  _

 

_ Backing his buddy up along the train, his hands steady even though they wanted to shake with the fear that had never left him when he was shipped out, he focused on making sure Steve’s punk ass wouldn’t get himself killed.  _

 

_ Bucky, with Adrenalin pumping and his hands steadynotsteady, didn’t expect the next few moments to be his last.  _

 

_ The smell of sweat and snow mixed with a burning sensation in his nose, and he nodded at Steve when he through him his gun. Saving his life, again, dammit.  _

 

_ When Steve’s shield was knocked out of his hands and the HYDRA goon aimed his gun at Bucky, grabbing the metal shield seemed to be the only smart thing to do in his panicked mind. His hands started shaking like they wanted to, and the smooth feel of the leather straps on the shield didn’t distract that the weight of the shield was heavier then he thought it would be. _

 

_ He heard Steve shout a resounding ‘NO!’ at the same time as a blast from that damned blue gun slammed into the shield and sent Bucky flying out of the hole the gun had made previously. The Sergeant felt a burst of fear shoot through him and he felt his pants become damp, and if it wasn’t for the horrifying, all-encompassing fear holding him hostage as he grasped onto the unstable piping, Bucky would have been embarrassed that he had pissed his pants in fear. _

 

_ “Grab my hand!” Steve yelled, and Bucky could see his friends wide blue eyes as he stretched out a gloved hand (those damn red gloves painting a target on him-) for Bucky to grasp, just out of his reach.  _

_ Bucky knew that there was no way he could reach Stevie’s hand, but the creaking of metal made him desperate, and he reached anyways. The creaking increased and Bucky realized with horror that shifting his weight to try and reach weakened the metal further, and with a ‘SNAP’ the metal pipe broke off completely, and Bucky began to fall, a terrified scream ripping itself from his lips. He could just make out Steve screaming his name over his own screams and the wind whipped around him. He could somehow feel that the ground was getting closer, and clenched his eyes shut and braced himself for- _

 

_ A shooting pain- _

 

_ His arm- _

 

_ Red- _

 

_ Pain- _

 

_ Black- _

 

Bucky woke up with a gasp and a sob, phantom pains ripping through his metal limb. 

 

Clenching his hands into the thick blankets, Bucky gasped for breath as he tried to calm down, his body shaking and sweat cooling on his skin, making him shiver harder.

 

_ God, I hate this... _

 

he had nightmares about every third night, but for some reason, this one seemed to show up the most ever since he got his memories back. Stark had done a good job with BARF, but it caused him to have nightmares that left him sleep-deprived and weak after every session. 

Leaning forward and putting his head in his hands, Bucky let out a shuddering breath. His muscles were tense and his body was shaking with the remembered terror of the Fall. 

 

“Buck?”

 

Bucky jumped almost a foot in the air, almost going for the knife he his under his pillow before he realized who had spoken. 

 

“Fuck Stevie,” Bucky breathed, still tense, and even in the darkness of his room he still saw Steve’s apologetic look as he stood in the doorway. 

 

“Sorry,” the blond whispered, “I didn't mean to scare you but,” Steve bit his lip and looked down at his stockinged feet. Bucky’s pal looked much like Bucky himself did, pale and slightly shaking, his shirt slightly damp with sweat.

 

“You too huh, pal?” Bucky sighed, and Steve nodded, his cheeks pinking.

 

“Get over here, Punk.” Bucky shoved aside the blankets, and Steve immediately jumped in, wrapping himself around Bucky like a koala. 

 

“Ya know,” Bucky drawled, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit, “It’s things like this that make people think we’re banging, punk.” 

 

Stevie blushed, then smirked. 

 

“You would be so lucky,” he teased back, and Bucky snorted. 

 

“As-if, you little shit,” Bucky grinned, “You ain’t my type, Rogers, even if the serum gave ya’ a rack like a dame.” Steve tried to glare at him, but they both knew Bucky was teasing. It was a running joke ever since the forties when Duggan first pointed it out. 

 

They sat in silence for a bit, before Stev shifted and looked at Bucky, Blue eyes solemn.  

 

“You ever think about what coulda’ happened if I saved you?”

 

Bucky flinched and avoided the piercing blue eyes. 

 

“Don’t go there, Stevie,” Bucky snapped, his left-hand clenching, the circuitry whirring. 

 

“But what if-”

 

“ _ Stop, Steve.  _ **_Don’t_ ** .” 

 

Steve clenched his jaw and looked down. 

 

“I dream about it, ya know,” Steve whispered. 

 

“About what?”

 

“About what coulda’ happened if I saved you,” Steve tightened his grip, making Bucky grunt, but Steve didn’t seem to notice. 

 

“Sometimes we end up happy, other times…” Steve sniffed, “Other times I save you, only to lose you another way- bullets, Schmitt, Zola, hell, one time you just up and died, and every single time I can’t save you and it’s just like the train, watching you die over and over while I stand there and do nothing-”

 

“I pissed my pants.” Bucky blurted out, then flushed. 

 

Steve stilled.

 

“What?”

 

“I-” Bucky swallowed. “I pissed my pants, when that good shot the shield and I went flyin’, I pissed my pants. I hadn't even fallen yet and I still-” Bucky huffed. “ I still have nightmare’s, ya’ know.”

 

Shifting in Steve’s grip, Bucky looked at Steve.

 

“The Fall, the Train. I still get nightmares, and I remember the terror, knowing I was gonna’ die,”

 

“Buck-”

 

“I remember thinkin’ ‘ _ thank God it was me, not Stevie _ ’, and when I hit the ground it was like someone had taken a mallet to every bone in my body then set them on fire-”

 

“ _ Bucky _ -”

 

“Ya’ wanna know the funny part?” Bucky laughed, but it was a thing filled with pain, and it shook. “I could still feel my damn left arm. The damn thing was ripped clean off and I could still feel it like it was attached and on fire, but it was lying five feet away from me, I could see it just-” Bucky sobbed, cutting himself off.

 

“Oh, Buck…” Steve breathed. He didn’t say anything more, and Bucky was grateful. There was really nothing he could say to make it better. Empty platitudes and comfort wasn’t something that was going to help, no matter what was said. Seventy years of trauma would make anyone resistant to comfort and care, and Bucky had long gotten used to not having anyone to tell him everything would be ok. 

 

“Go to sleep Buck, I’ll watch over you.”

 

“Kay’, Stevie.”

 

Neither of them got any more sleep that night. __

 

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
